


Counting

by UberDuper



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UberDuper/pseuds/UberDuper
Summary: “One.” She moved her hand to the right. “Two.” Back to the left. “Three.” She started moving her hand. “F-” The Reader grabbed her wrist, much to Sandra's 'surprise'. “Oh? Are you telling me I've messed up already? That simply cannot be right.”





	Counting

**Author's Note:**

> Pyre is a good game, you should play it. Though, uh, if you're reading this, then you probably have, I guess. Also, Sandra is a babe and deserves the best even if she did try to kill a dude.

Beneath the Reader, the wagon rumbled quietly, having left the grounds of Mount Alodiel for the last time not five minutes ago. The air whistled quietly outside, for the wagon was moving slowly. There was no rush to get anywhere, not anymore. Bertrude and Pamitha had retired, leaving the Reader alone in the wagon's common area, surrounded by the trinkets and baubles of times and friends past. The Reader glanced out of one of the windows, seeing nothing but the starless sky and the occasional passing cloud, rumbling with thunder or pulsing with rain. There truly was nothing left for her out there.

A sigh escaped the Reader's lips, and she found herself slowly collapsing to the ground, not even sitting at the table. Jodariel's throw rug was soft against her backside as she curled up into a ball on the floor, ignoring the Planner sitting just a few inches from her head. There was nothing left to do now but wait, wait for the Messenger-Imps to return with a message of the plan's results, if it ever even came. The Reader did not doubt that the Plan would succeed. Quite the contrary, she had full confidence that Volfred would be able to execute it with grace. But still...

On the ground the Reader lay, simply unable to get up from her position on the floor. Her stomach rumbled quietly, reminding her that sustenance was required some time soon, but she ignored that as well. A strange bit of lethargy settled into her bones, a strong bit of finality. The reality was beginning to sink in. She would never see most of her friends again. Hedwyn, Jodariel, and Rukey... Mae, Ti'zo, Sir Gilman, and Volfred... They were all gone to do better things. And she didn't regret that. But now more than ever, she wished to see them one last time for reassurance.

Something in her robes grew warm against her hip, and the Reader glanced down even as a familiar voice began to fill her head.

“I realize we're in the wagon, but I'm feeling a bit lower than usual.” It snarked. “I didn't realize that Wyrm-Knight was still here. Tell him to get his slimy bits off of me.” At the comment, the Reader chuckled quietly under her breath, but did not reply. The voice seemed to take note of this and was silent for a second.

“Dear Reader, I beckon you to heed my call.” It said when speaking up again. The Reader blinked in surprise. “Come into the crystal, for I must speak with you in private.” And then the voice was gone.

The Reader sat up, reaching into her robe and fishing out the luminous green sphere nestled in a pocket against her hip. It seemed to sparkle, just as it always had when it wanted something from her. She held the orb for a moment, her fingers just barely touching it, before she closed her eyes and focused. The world around her twisted, sending her spinning into a terrible yet brief sense of vertigo. And when she reopened her eyes, the world around her was mystical, shimmering hues of the rainbow muted by the ever encroaching blackness. She stood on one end of a rectangular plane, a fire... no, a pyre burning behind her, blue as the morning sky. Before her, on the other end, stood a figure robed in green, donning a familiar mask and posed before a similar pyre of a similar color.

“My beloved Reader,” The masked figure said. “Today we are here for a final test. Your fools and followers have all passed their tests. There is but one Nightwing left for me to examine.” The Reader glanced down, finding herself robed in blue. “And that Nightwing is you. Are you ready for my final test? The most difficult one of all awaits you, for it is just you and me here in this astral plane. A most honorable one-on-one.”

The Reader stared at the apparition before her in confusion. What... what was going on? There was no need for this, for the Rites had ended, just as she had witnessed. And yet the apparition was calling to her, beckoning her forward. And she heeded the call, slowly and cautiously walking up to the center of the area. They met in the middle, just as the mock orb dropped from the sky in between them. The apparition stooped down to pick it up... and then promptly tossed it to the side. Then she unfastened her mask, and the Reader found Sandra 'staring' at her.

“Thus begins the test.” Sandra said, and did something the Reader would never have predicted of her. She held out her arms for a hug. After a moment of stunned silence, the Reader lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Sandra's torso and burying her face into the crook of the apparition's neck. She smelled of the air after it rains. “What's wrong, Reader?” Sandra asked, lowering her voice even as the two began to lower to the ground. “Am I not your favorite specter of the Rites? Does hearing my voice not fill you with dread as it should?”

The Reader shook her head, fisting her hands in the material of Sandra's robe. Sandra sighed, wrapping an arm around the Reader and pulling her close. The other moved upwards to run a hand through the Reader's hair. Sandra clicked her tongue as she did so, pulling out a couple of knots in the long locks.

“My, my, your hair is so tangled. You really must do something better to take care of it.” Sandra said, drumming her fingers lightly on the Reader's scalp, her hand tangled in the hair she was combing. “Come, my dearest Reader, you must tell me what the matter is. Surely you don't miss that imp Ti'zo, hmm? You must enjoy the quiet that his squawking used to fill...” Sandra's joke fell flat, as she suddenly felt a trembling against her.

The Reader's shoulders shook, and Sandra felt a slight wetness began to bead against her neck. The apparition's face contorted in a scowl, directed at herself. What a foolish thing to joke about.

“...My mistake.” She admitted, pulling the silently sobbing woman into her lap. “Of course you miss the little nuisance. You were so close to all of them, for some reason...” Her hand began combing through the Reader's hair again, scratching comfortingly at her scalp. “I oh so dislike to be the voice of reason in this situation, but you mustn't forget that, just as you cared about them, they too care about you. And you must look on the bright side.” Sandra pulled her hand from the Reader's hair, moving it to her cheek so that she could adjust where the poor woman was looking.

The Reader looked up at Sandra, spying her frown for just a moment before it twisted into a shit-eating smirk. She adjusted her arms, moving one from around Sandra's body to laying a hand on her shoulder. Sandra's smirk only grew wider, and she used her other arm to adjust the Reader's legs, making the Reader straddle her. She stared at Sandra quietly for a moment before bidding her to continue. Was was the bright side Sandra spoke of, hmm?

“Why, you've got your own little prisoner here, complete with a cage!” Sandra laughed at her own joke. “One that simply couldn't leave you, even if she wanted to.” She laughed again, prompting the Reader to snort and push lightly at her shoulder. “So lighten up. Don't let those annoyingly dark thoughts cloud your pretty little head. It's much, much more fun to see you upbeat, you know.”

The Reader smiled at that, draping both her arms over Sandra's shoulders. The apparition's smirk returned, and her hands left the Reader's body to rest on her cheeks. The Reader looked surprised at the intimate touch, but Sandra only continued to smirk.

“How unfair do you imagine this is, hmm?” She asked, pressing lightly at the Reader's cheeks with her thumbs before one hand trailed back to touch at her jaw. The other hand drifted forward and up, pressing against the Reader's forehead as though she were checking her temperature. “You've gotten to experience my wonderful visage on many an occasion, even when I willed you away...” Sandra's hands kept moving, one moving to prod at the Reader's ear while the other trailed slowly over the bridge of her nose with a single finger. “And yet I could not experience yours. For somebody with such an interest in me, you're rather mean, aren't you?” She asked.

The Reader stared quietly as Sandra's hands examined her face. It was only fair, after all. She giggled a bit when Sandra's fingers ghosted over her brow. The girlish sound only caused Sandra's smirk to grow wider.

“Tell me, Reader. Do you have freckles?” Sandra asked. She waited until the Reader began opening her mouth before moving her hand, placing an index finger to the Reader's lips. They were soft, just as Sandra had expected. Not as though she thought about them regularly, of course. Sandra felt the Reader jolt in surprise, and let her body shake slightly with a single chuckle. Heh. “I'm just kidding, I already know. You're not very good at hiding your thoughts about them, you know.” Sandra felt the Reader's cheeks warm up in embarrassment. One more point for Sandra.

“I've always thought freckles were endearing you know, dearest Reader. What's that phrase they use? 'The more the merrier?” Sandra asked, her finger still against the Reader's lips. She felt the other woman nod, and finally moved her hand. “Well then, here is what I suggest.” The Reader cocked her head. Sandra grinned. “You stay with me until we get to wherever we're going. We'll spend the time counting freckles, and if I count the same one twice, we start over. Just the two of us, no help. Deal?”

The Reader stared quietly at the preposition. Then she smiled and gave her approval.

“Excellent.” Sandra replied, gently poking the Reader on the cheek. “One.” She moved her hand to the right. “Two.” Back to the left. “Three.” She started moving her hand. “F-” The Reader grabbed her wrist, much to Sandra's 'surprise'. “Oh? Are you telling me I've messed up already? That simply cannot be right.” The Reader nodded, prompting a snicker from Sandra.

“If that's the case, then I suppose we must start again, as I've promised.” Sandra moved to the Reader's other cheek, pressing her finger onto a random spot. “One...”

 


End file.
